Ethan couldn't fathom why the Infernal Hound was such a glutton. Later, he'd learn it was a product of their brutal world—too many demons, too little food. What struck him as stranger still was that none of them ever seemed to starve. That was why demons were whispered to be a race of pure terror, devouring everything in their path until nothing but wasteland remained. The rumors, it turned out, had a basis in truth.
That insatiable hunger, however, belonged mostly to the lower ranks. The higher demons were different—creatures of vast intelligence and strength, with appetites guided more by taste than necessity. Take the Infernal Hound before him: one hot dog had been enough to win its loyalty.
"Senior, can you lure him out? I'll handle the rest," Ethan asked, seeing the beast licking its chops in satisfaction. At last, he voiced the plan he'd been holding back.
